


Trapped in the cold

by marblequeen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, M/M, Not Beta Read, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marblequeen/pseuds/marblequeen
Summary: A quick oneshot of Bucky in Romania pre-Civil War. I'm really bad at titles and descriptions, but I think you might like this work :)





	Trapped in the cold

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, I can't think of a decent description. Quick TW: there's some self hate thrown in there, nothing's graphic or anything, but if yeah, I just wanted to be sure you know what you're getting into :)

Bucky hates the rain. Well, not exactly. It isn't _that_ bad, it masks your tears with its drops and everybody looks the same hidden under umbrellas.

But it's cold and when the roof of your tiny apartment in Romania leaks and your bed is too soft and pillows too fluffy, the rain doesn't seem like the best thing to happen.

So when it rains and the weather is cold, Bucky doesn't wear a sweater. Nor turn the heater up. Instead, he turns on the too bringt lights that hurt his eyes and sits on the too soft bed with the too fluffy pillows behind his back, and lets the cold seep into his bones - _like the cryo freeze_ \- and the regular sound of the leaking droplets grate on his nerves. It seems like an accurate penance for all his sins.

And he remembers. And writes it down. And when he can't take it anymore, he keeps on going. Because no matter what the therapist, whose blog he reads sometimes, says, it wasn't _them_ that were to blame for all he did. Well, maybe they were. But HE still DID. All those things. And now he remembers. All those faces.

So maybe Bucky hates himself as much as he hates HYDRA. And maybe rainy days are bad days. And maybe he should seek help, but he manages in his own, right? He reads self-help pamphlets and blogs, and he knows that plums help recover your memory and he eats them every day even though he hates them.

Yeah, Bucky hates a lot of things. Cold nights, regular patterns, routines that can make it easier to find him, plums, himself.

He wants to hate HIM. He really wants to hate blue eyes and blonde hair that keep on reappearing in his dreams. Only in dreams. A fragile, skinny body suddenly changing into two hundred something mass of pure muscles. A gentle, surprisingly deep voice. He really wants to hate it all.

But he can't. Because he _dreams_. That ghost that keeps hunting him never comes in his nightmares. It's not somebody he killed. Somebody he saved? Nor somebody he hurt. Somebody he loved?

And it confuses him and he _hates it_. But one night, as he dreams of a lithe body wrapped in his arms, of soft sighs brushing his collarbone, of cold feet - _"your feet are always so cold, how do you even do this?"_ \- pressing between his thighs for warmth... he remembers. Wakes up with first hints of a smile on his face and reaches for his notebook. First good memory to write down.

** _Steve_ **


End file.
